Steele Hurdling Obstacles
by RSteele82
Summary: Set during Season Four's "Steele in the Running." The case of Joan Grey proves to insert new obstacles into the romantic lives of Steele and Laura. Laura shutting Steele out for the prior two weeks, coupled with Steele's own growing hostilities only complicate matters. How is it resolved?


**Author's Note:**

 **Before I began writing fanfiction, I ran across an amazing Remington Steele message board, in which the participants discussed the show in depth. One of the common themes I had come across was the belief that Steele and Laura's relationship had been on the rocks for many episodes before Bonds of Steele tossed them into a hasty marriage. Frankly, this perplexed me, as I was not of this opinion. While yes, they had hit some bumps in the road - the devastating argument at the spa; Laura's sudden infatuation for fame at all costs; the strain between them during Steele in the Running - they had overcome. Sensitive Steele's final scene showed them struggling to fix what words had damaged, successfully so. Steele in the Spotlight had them communicate openly, and then closed with them in a clinch. The only perceptible difference I could find was that, although Steele in the Running once more ends with them in clinch, they never actually communicated with one another, never divulged the real reasons for their underlying hostilities... even though the reasons were quite clear to the viewer.**

 **This is the only explanation I could find, as the next episode following Running is the delightful Beg, Borrow or Steele in which the couple had just returned from New York. And the one following that? While not heavy in romance (although it soon may well be), Steele Alive and Kicking opens with a wonderful "Mr & Mrs Steele" moment, and demonstrates that Laura is, more and more, putting Steele on equal ground with her, when she takes on a case he has his heart set on, but she has reservations over.**

 **Yes, Running appears to be the trouble maker, but why? It never should have been.**

 **Thanks, as always, to my wonderful editor and Beta reader. Some of my biggest smiles come from reading her commentaries and suggestions. And certainly, she has kept my struggling confidence afloat.**

 **Thanks as well to the readers, who take the time to read my little fantasies and take the time to let me know I am doing at least something right.**

 **As always, I neither own nor make a profit off these characters. I simply adore them.**

* * *

Steele Hurdling Obstacles

At the sound of the alarm blaring, Steele groaned while slapping his hand blindly at the nightstand trying to locate the offending object that was interrupting his sleep. Finding it, his adept fingers felt around until they located the snooze button, stabbing it, silencing the monstrosity for another seven glorious minutes of sleep. The second round of blaring was met with a creative round of expletives as he shoved himself up to sit on the side of the bed. With bleary eyes, he glanced at the alarm clock and shut it down, officially, for the morning. After scrubbing at his eyes with his hands, he forced himself to his legs to stumble toward the bathroom. The cooler than normal water of the shower was met with another round of expletives even as it worked its magic, helping bring his body to life.

As far as Steele was concerned, having to leave his bed at six-thirty in the morning was nothing less than absurd. Even more so, these days, it had become a source of annoying inconvenience rendered necessary by Laura's sudden flightiness. Strong, staid, dependable, responsible Laura had suddenly become, well, _him_. Oh, the first couple of days when she'd not strolled in until 10 a.m. he'd found it amusing, thinking his Miss Holt had finally decided to take the time to smell the roses, as it were. Yet as the days of that first week had progressed and she'd steadily continued to come in late and leave early, rendering it necessary for him to cover in her absence, her sudden change in behavior had become a matter of constant consternation. But it was not until she'd cancelled their time together last weekend with the unbelievable excuse of family obligations to attend to that his perplexity had turned into full blown alarm.

In fact, it had led him to do something that he'd not done before, something for which he was not particularly proud of himself, but not particularly ashamed as well. It simply was what it was: he'd driven by her place on Saturday evening on his way to Monroe's. The Rabbit had been safely ensconced in the parking lot alongside her building and was clearly not in Tarzana as she'd implied it would be. The sight had so disturbed him that on his way back home in the wee hours of Sunday morning, he'd again driven by her building with purpose, and once more the Rabbit was there, in the same parking space it had occupied the evening before. There were only two conclusions that could be drawn.

Firstly, Laura had lied to him. There was no family obligation, she'd simply not wanted their weekends to go on, as evidenced by her cancellation earlier this week of their time together that was to have begun this evening. By now, her cancellation had not even shocked him. He had become resigned to it, as it were. After all, it had been nearly two weeks now since they had spent any form of time together outside of work. She disappeared each day at lunch, leaving him to his own devices. She'd begged off of their evenings together each night, claiming that there were files that needed attending to or 'I think I'm going to call an early evening and just go home to bed. You understand, don't you?"

Secondly, he'd finally acknowledge the truth of it two days ago, as he sat in the office buried under a blizzard of paperwork Laura had left unattended: she had placed distance between them once more and was preparing to end them. Now, as he observed himself in the bathroom mirror as he shaved, he shook his head, and asked the question he'd been posing to himself for the better part of two days: why?

Only three weeks ago they'd agreed that they both wanted their relationship to move ahead. Both honest, if halting, communication, and Steele's commitment of words to paper extoling Laura's virtues had seen them through the damaging words they'd hurled at one another during a session at the Freidlich Sensitivity Spa. Granted, they'd hit another rough patch during Laura's very un-Laura-like seduction by the camera, but once more, their commitment to communicate more, to be more open with one another had seen them through. In both cases, they'd emerged on the other side of conflict stronger than before.

There had been no altercations between them. There had been no strife at either work or home. Nothing to explain why she was suddenly pulling away. He hadn't even wanted to consider it, yet there was a voice deep in his head (which sounded suspiciously like Daniel's) beginning to nag him that perhaps his perennially skittish partner had found herself another man. As the words bounced across his mind again now, he nicked himself with the razor, raising another bevy of less-than-gentlemanly adjectives that described his feelings on that.

 _A perfect start to a new day, old sport. Roused out of bed in the middle of the night, a slashed throat, and a pile of paperwork awaiting you._

Tossing down the razor and swiping the remnants of shaving cream off his face, Steele pulled on a shirt, knotted a tie and slung on a jacket in the bedroom prior to heading the front door. A quick glance at the watch he was clasping as he walked showed it was seven-fifteen, leaving plenty of time to make it to the office before eight.

"Positively obscene," he muttered as he opened the door. "The woman's absolutely destroying me."

Locking the deadbolt behind him, Steele headed to the elevator, and with a shake of his head, punched the button that would take the elevator to the garage below.

* * *

Laura glanced at her watch as she maneuvered her bike up the three flights of stairs to her loft. Nine-thirty-five. Twenty minutes to shower, dry her hair, dress for work and get out the door if she wanted to be at the office by ten-thirty. _Thank heaven today is the last day of training, and Monday I can resume my normal hours at the office. Mr. Steele is on the verge of an apoplectic fit over my lack of presence in the office these past two weeks._

She was grateful that he had picked up her slack, even if grudgingly so. Three years ago he would have thought nothing of just allowing the Agency to sit stagnant or to leave it to her to work until the wee hours of the night to make up for the time she'd taken for herself, personally. Now, she hadn't even needed to ask. While he might appear to have a lackadaisical attitude towards the Agency, he was incapable of watching it fall to ruin around him. So while he was doing so with ever increasing resentment, he'd worked hard to catch all the balls she'd dropped before they hit the ground.

Laura leaned her bike against the wall outside her loft. Retrieving her key from where she'd tucked it into the top of her sports bra, she fiddled with the lock before it gave. Sliding open the door, she secured the bike next to the piano before returning to the door and latching it. Jogging across the loft and up the stairs to her bedroom, she kicked off her shoes before heading back down the stairs to the bathroom. Turning on the shower, she quickly stripped down, then dove under the warm water.

There was no disputing it. If Steele had not taken over the reins of the Agency, so to speak, she would have been unable to pursue this dream of hers. There was also no doubt that she had left him blowing in the wind on a personal level. She'd offered him no explanations for her sudden change of hours, for why she was not available for lunch, why she always begged off from their evenings together. And yes, she admitted to herself with no small amount of guilt now, that she'd even lied to him in order to get out of their time together last weekend. Even as she had done it, was doing it, she could see the toll it was taking on him. His nervous energy was returning, his flippant remarks were on the upturn, and she'd found him more and more often staring out the office, worrying his thumb with his teeth or running a hand through his hair. It was when he looked at her, however, that it was most apparent, as that guarded, cautious look had returned to his eyes. That look she'd only seen one other time since he'd come home from London.

She blew out a deep breath, then turned off the water spigots before stepping out of the shower and quickly swiping at her body with a towel. Wrapping it around herself, she pulled a second off the towel rack, securing it turban-style around her head. Leaving the bathroom, she hastened up the steps to her bedroom. Dropping the towel carelessly on the floor, she quickly dressed, then scampered back down the steps, and returned to the bathroom to blow dry her hair and apply her makeup.

Truth be told, the first few days of training, she'd tried to assure Steele. At the office, she shared more of the delicious kisses they would exchange than she normally would have during business hours. She'd go home, run ten kilometers, shower quickly, then zip back across town in the Rabbit to have dinner with him. But after a few nights, the lack of sleep was catching up with her and she'd realized that if she really wanted to train effectively so that she could truly compete in the upcoming triathlon, it would require complete dedication. So, she'd made the decision that for the remainder of time before the triathlon, their evenings together would have to end.

Their time on the weekends had proven more difficult. She could not, for the life of her, think of a way to disappear three times a day while they were together, as her training would require, without offering him an explanation as to why. Then, if he'd found the notion of her competing in a triathlon as trifling, not worthy of interrupting their time together, what would she do? An argument would be sure to ensue, that could possibly do more damage to them than her simply cancelling the weekend. Yes, she'd acknowledged it would require a lie, but figured after the triathlon was over he would understand.

Then the resentment had set in. During the years that she and Wilson were together, she'd felt obligated to tell him where she was going and how long she would be gone. When he disagreed with something she wanted to do, she'd felt compelled to let it go, no matter how much it meant to her. That he, Steele, with his mounting anxiety and confusion was making her feel as though she was obligated to provide an explanation of what was going on in her life rankled. She'd promised herself long ago that she would never be answerable to a man again. This was her life, and by God she was going to live it as she saw fit. No one was going to tell her what she could or could not do, ever again.

It hadn't mattered that Steele had never pressed her for an explanation, had simply taken her at her word. The resentment caused by a past that he'd not been a part of had still existed. Crinkling her nose at herself now, she could recognize intellectually that she was being unfair to him, and, in fact, after days on end of shutting him out an explanation was warranted… yet on an emotional level, still left scarred by her time spent with Wilson, she still felt an unreasonable demand not to give in to the temptation to clear the air.

Tossing down her mascara on the counter, she left the bathroom and skittered up the stairs to her bedroom one last time. Pulling on a pair of heels, she grabbed her purse off the dresser, then descended the stairs, and moved swiftly through the loft to the door.

 _He only has to make it through one more day. Tomorrow, after the triathlon, I'll go by his place. We can have dinner, spend some time together, and I'll settle his frazzled nerves._

* * *

Laura should have known better than to believe her prolonged absences from the office, from their personal life, would be left unaddressed according to the timeline she'd established in her head. Just as Steele's carefully orchestrated ruses would often disintegrate before his very eyes, leaving disaster in their wake, Laura's compulsive need to control every aspect of her life often ended in the unexpected upending of her carefully laid plans. This was, of course, the case in this decision not to divulge what she'd been up to the last two weeks until after the triathlon was a fait accompli.

When she'd arrived at the office on Friday morning, Mildred had looked at her, brows raised in amusement, and informed her the Boss had left instructions that Laura was to come see him as soon as she arrived. He'd then not asked for, but demanded an explanation for her absences, carefully cloaking his demand as a professional concern, not in the least personal. The demand had tweaked her anger. He in turn had slipped, wondering aloud if she had another man in her life. While she had, ultimately, divulged the training schedule she'd undertaken and the upcoming triathlon, it was a case of too little, too late. Both of them were put out with the other, and neither was willing to do what was needed to calm the troubled waters.

By the morning after the triathlon, they'd been reduced to old bad habits: sniping at one another, making veiled references, criticizing one another and, in general, pretending that none of it mattered to either of them the rest of the time. Twice Steele had been accosted, while trying to locate the missing Joan Grey, the first time resulting in a lecture from Laura while she questionably tended his injury although the second round of beatings had resulted in a softly posed 'What am I going to do with you?' that seemed to indicate the beginning of a thaw. Laura, in turn, had unilaterally decided to use herself as a decoy for a couple want-to-be killers, igniting Steele's ire as he pointed out, not for the first time in their years of association, the double standard she applied to the two of them when it came to putting life and limb on the line. Yet, when one of the men had managed to get his hands on her, Steele had come to the rescue and was clearly relieved that she was left unharmed.

Still, despite their small steps towards one another, it was apparent to both that a crack had formed in their relationship after two weeks of secrets and lack of communication. After Joan Grey aka Joan Kendall had been reunited with her husband, and Ivory, Gullickson and associate had been hauled off by the police, they had gone their separate ways: he back to his flat at the Rossmore, she to her loft. It appeared neither were willing to open themselves up to the discussion that needed to take place, nor would either bend in their determination to be right.

* * *

It made for a difficult night for both of them. Sleep did not come easily and when it did, it was restless. By six-thirty Monday morning, Steele was sitting up, with his legs slung over the side of the bed, scrubbing at his face with his hands. He'd woken early, without the call of the electronic monstrosity that sat beside his bed, despite his vow to sleep until the sun had risen midway from the horizon. With a shrug of his shoulders and a slap of his hands on his thighs, he pushed himself off the bed and headed for the shower. If he was going to be up at this god forsaken hour, then he may as well go to the office.

Laura had not fared much better. She'd given up on sleep shortly before dawn. Padding down to the kitchen, she'd brewed a pot of coffee and with a cup of the steaming liquid in hand, curled herself into the corner of the couch, a copy of the comforting _Wuthering Heights_ in hand. Thirty minutes later she set the book down with a huff, unable to concentrate enough to make it through a single page. With a deep sigh, she uncurled herself from the couch and headed to the bathroom to shower. There was only one thing more comforting to her than the familiarity of an old favored, book and that was, of course, the Agency.

She arrived at the agency at eight o'clock, straight up. Mildred was already seated at her desk, computer booted up and printing out the background information required for the Hoffsteadler case. She appeared surprised as Laura breezed past, greeting her good morning.

"I thought you had decided to come in late this morning, rest up from the events of his weekend, Miss Holt." Laura turned and looked at Mildred askance.

"Why would you think that? I said Friday that business would resume as normal today," she pointed out.

"Well with the Boss her early and all, I just thought…"

"He's here?" Laura interrupted, with a stunned glance towards his closed office door.

"Has been for twenty minutes or so. Asked for the O'Donnell contract and said he was meeting with O'Donnell at the gallery at ten o'clock to begin the layout of the security system." Mildred tore the papers off the printer next to her and held them out to Laura. "Oh, and the Boss had me pull police, hall of record, and credit reports on Macklin and Weaver in the Hoffsteadler case. Told me to put them on your desk for you. But since you're here…" she waved the pages at Laura, trying to catch her attention, as the younger woman's eyes were fastened on Steele's door.

 _What in the world is going on here?_ Laura wondered, taking the papers from Mildred's hand. "Hoffsteadler. Yes. Right," Laura mumbled absently, before turning and heading into her office. Taking off her fedora, she tossed it onto one of the chairs meant for clients, before sitting in her chair. Leaning back, and propping her feet on her desk, she stared at the door adjoining Steele's office, trying to figure out why he'd arrived at the office when he was free to return to his normal, abbreviated schedule. _There's no telling what he's up to,_ she thought with a huff while taking down her legs and grabbing the paperwork Mildred had given her. _Nothing like work to take your mind off things… like the stubborn man next door._

Over the next hour, Laura reviewed the notes on the Hoffsteadler case Steele had compiled, grudgingly acknowledging his attention to detail and insightfulness in the information he'd compiled. She reviewed the background checks Mildred had printed, making notes in the margins when something in particular caught her eye. At first glance, the case would be a quick close, thankfully, as in four days Laura would be departing for Bernice's wedding in New York City.

Which brought her thoughts full circle back to Steele, as he was supposed to be accompanying her on the trip. Her sarcastic chuckle was accompanied by a shake of her head. She'd been looking forward to this trip since January. In fact, she reluctantly admitted, had daydreamed about it. She and Steele in the city, that is. He'd insisted on taking care of their rooms for the three nights they were there, a surprise he'd said. Whatever that surprise might be, it would no doubt be as romantic as only he could make it. Just the thought had had her smiling dreamily for months, especially when coupled with visions of them on the dance floor at Bernice's reception, dinner in the city, perhaps a show. _Fat chance that's going to happen now, at least not the way things currently stand between us._

Not for a moment did she think this was a point of crisis for them, a precursor of an ending of any kind. She recognized it for what it was: a bump in the road created by not enough time together, lack of information sharing and resentments that had arisen due to the first two. The only way they would make it past, however, was through open communication, something they often both still struggled with… especially communication that did not devolve into snipes and critical witticisms of one another. She sighed and pushed herself up from her desk, heading towards their shared door, determined to feel Steele out. Taking a deep breath and pasting a smile on her face, she swung open the door.

To find him conspicuously absent. Laura strode through Steele's door into the reception area.

"Mildred, I thought you said Mr. Steele was here."

"He was, hon. You just missed him. You mean you never went in to see him?"

"Did he say where he was going?" Laura inquired, ignoring Mildred's question.

"The O'Donnell meeting. Ten o'clock at the gallery. I told you about it when you came. Is everything okay, hon?"

"Did he say when he would be back?" Laura rubbed at her temples, trying to ward off the headache that was threatening.

"Are you and the Boss still not talking?" Mildred asked suspiciously.

"Mildred, _please_! Did Mr. Steele say when he was going to be back?" Laura's voice had risen and she'd begun to speak in clipped words. Mildred gave her a slight frown, not appreciating the tone of voice that had been used.

"He won't be. After the meeting he plans to go by Monroe's to order the equipment that will be needed, then plans to return to the gallery and finalize the layout on site."

"Alright. I'll go meet him at the gallery then," Laura told her, as she headed towards her office to retrieve her hat and purse.

"You can't, Miss Holt. You have a 10:30 with Mr. Hoffsteadler to provide him with an update on his case, two new clients scheduled for 12:30 and 2:00, then at 3:30 you have your deposition for Kuramatsu – which, let me remind you, you've already postponed twice - and then you have an early dinner meeting with the accountant to prepare for quarter end since you'll be out of town through Monday."

 _Damn, this is what happens when you take the better part of two weeks off, Holt._

"Call Howard and reschedule our meeting for next Tuesday. I'll keep the other appointments," Laura turned and wearily walked back to her office. Once there, she dug through her purse for the bottle of aspirin she kept there. Popping it open, she tossed back two pills, dry, then returned the bottle to her purse before collapsing in her chair. With another glance at her watch, she shook her head, then pulled out the file on Agency expenses Mildred had prepared and left on her desk the week before.

 _Work's always the best distraction,_ she reminded herself.

* * *

"Ah, Mick, my old friend, come with your shopping list have you?" Monroe stood up from behind his desk and held out his hand to Steele as he entered the office.

"A rather lengthy one at that," Steele replied, clasping Monroe's hand in his and slapping the back of it with his other. "Good to see you, mate, been awhile."

"It certainly has. Tell me, how is my future wife doing?" Monroe laughed loudly at Steele's raised brow in response to his reference to Laura.

"Strong-headed comes to mind." Steele slung his body into a chair and propped his feet up on the corner of Monroe's desk, getting comfortable.

"Trouble in paradise, mon ami? Do I see an opening, at last, for me to make my move in the near future?" Monroe could never resist giving Steele a hard time, most especially when it came to Laura, but belying his joking manner, he could sense Steele's unrest.

"I don't think Jocelyn would much appreciate that," Steele answered drolly. "Laura and I are fine. Just a bit of a rough patch, nothing we won't work out."

"Still leading you on a merry chase then is she?" Steele threw back his head and laughed at the comment.

"Good thing I've always enjoyed the impossible challenge, for she is that. Well worth the effort though, when she's not fighting it." Steele clapped his hands together, grinning at Monroe. "Shall we turn the talk to business for a moment? How is business treating us?"

"Looking at our best quarter yet. Stock has been flying off the shelves faster than we can order it in the two new stores and the home theater division is in high demand, literally bringing in the money by the bucketful. I tell you, Mick, had I realized the profit to be made in electronics, I would have foregone smuggling long ago."

"There is something to be said for trodding the straight and narrow… even if the shoe does fit a bit snug at times." Steele grimaced as he recalled the tedium of the past two weeks as he'd been anchored to the desk by a series of benign cases that required little more than paperwork. Monroe, observing Steele's expression, thoughtfully considered his friend.

"Should I be concerned that you are hearing the siren's call of our past life, old friend?" Steele waved his hand at Monroe in response while shaking his head in the negative.

"Simply lamenting the avalanche of paperwork that has covered my desk these past days. No, I'm quite satisfied with my life here: interesting job that flirts often enough with the shadowy side of the street to keep my skills sharp, a home to call my own… Laura, as maddening as she may be at times. Wouldn't change a thing." Steele stood, stretching as he did so. "I need the crew on site tomorrow morning at eight. Let them know they may be putting in slightly longer hours. We need the gallery secured before Laura and I leave for New York this weekend."

"I'll see that they're there," Monroe confirmed, rising as well. "Incidentally, your young Jackie will be part of the crew doing the installation." Steele raised a brow and pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"Will he now? It will be good to see him. Still keeping his hands clean?"

"Indeed he is. I made it clear to him that we required him to play it straight if he were to work here, learn the trade. He's doing well."

"That's good to know," Steele said strolling towards the door. "Let's the four of us get together for dinner next week. Wednesday evening at L'Ornate, perhaps?"

"I'm sure Jocelyn would be delighted. We both do so enjoy watching Laura set you off balance." Monroe laughed as he received a glare from Steele.

"Yes, well she does that, for certain. Wednesday at eight. I'll make the reservations." Reaching out, he shook Monroe's hands a final time, before exiting the office and returning to the Auburn where he gave his watch a glance. Two-thirty. _I should be able to wrap up at the gallery by six. Quick run by the store and by seven I should be firmly ensconced in the kitchen, thankfully. Nothing like whipping up a good meal to relax a body, even if said body is eating alone._

With a resigned sigh, he started the Auburn and tossing it into drive, pointed it back down Wilshire towards the gallery.

* * *

Laura arrived at Steele's apartment in a black mood. The headache, likely cause by her restless night, had plagued her all day and seemed unlikely to release its hold on her anytime soon. A potential new client had left angry when she'd explained to him the Remington Steele Agency did not routinely engage in following a potentially adulterous spouse for the purpose of obtaining pictures for court. Hoffsteadler, despite the absolute proof in hand in the form of bank statements, had vigorously defended the young Mark Weaver, who happened to be the son of a close family friend. Then, to top it all off, the deposition had started nearly forty-five minutes late and had droned on for an hour and a half, forcing her to battle the rush hour traffic of LA. She had planned to be at the apartment by six, and now it was just after seven. By the time they had the discussion they needed to have, she would likely be driving home well after midnight, losing yet more sleep.

Letting herself in with her key, she called out for Steele. She growled when she was met only with silence. Despite the tension between the two of them at the moment, she was in desperate need of those magical fingers of his as the headache had increased in intensity to the point that it now had her stomach churning. Sinking down on the couch, she propped her elbows on her knees and dropped her head into her hands, rubbing vigorously at her temples. When Steele arrived home only a few minutes after her arrival, that is how he found her.

Steele paused in the doorway, surprised to find Laura sitting on the couch when he walked through the door. Taking in her posture on the couch and her failure to look up at his entrance, he quickly and accurately surmised that she was in the midst of one of the pulse-pounding headaches that seemed to grip her once or twice a month. He quietly navigated his way through the living room into the kitchen, depositing the bag of groceries on the counter before returning to Laura's side. Positioning himself in the corner of the couch, he touched her on the shoulders.

"Come here, Laura, let's have a lie down," he coaxed her. Laura gratefully stretched out, laying her head in Steele's lap. His fingers moved to her temples, began to rub lightly. "How long?" he asked quietly.

"All day, worse the last couple of hours," she murmured in reply.

"Taken anything?"

"Aspirin. Hasn't helped, though it may have eaten a hole in my stomach," she quipped, then immediately grimaced.

"Let's get you taken care of then, so we can fight on another day, eh?"

"I don't want to fight," she sighed wearily.

"Nonetheless, I suspect we'll do just that. Let's not worry about that now. Our attentions are needed elsewhere at the moment. Breathe deeply Laura, try to relax." He nodded to himself as Laura took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

For the better part of half an hour, Steele focused on Laura, moving from temples, to scalp, and finally to her tense shoulders. He knew the moment the headache released its grip as Laura perceptibly relaxed against him. He continued on until he heard Laura's soft sigh, indicating she'd dozed off. He carefully sidled out from underneath her head, replacing his lap with a pillow from the couch. Knowing she would not sleep long, he made his way to the bathroom and prepared a steaming bath, pouring a generous portion of her honeysuckle bubble bath under the running water. Back in the kitchen, he put together a plate of crackers and cheese and poured two glasses of a wonderful new wine, Vietti Barbera D'Asti Tre Vigne, that he'd planned to indulge in with the Pasta Alfredo he'd planned to whip up for himself this evening. Leaving his own glass on the counter, he carried the plate and her glass of wine to the bathroom and set them on the edge of the tub to wait for her.

Only minutes later, as he diced the tomatoes for the salad in the kitchen, he heard Laura stir in the living room. He ducked his head into the dining room where she could see him. "Bath's waiting for you. Eat yourself a couple of crackers and cheese before you drink the wine. Dinner should be ready in a half hour or so. We'll eat when you're ready. Go relax away the remnants of the headache." Laura smiled drowsily at him before making her way towards his room.

Steele returned to the kitchen, a smile upon his face. There was little he enjoyed more than taking care of Laura, but she seldom allowed him to do so. Preparing meals for her, the occasional foot massage, relieving a headache was the short list of what she'd allow, so entrenched was she in wanting to rely on no one but herself. Certainly, yesterday had proven that, he recalled, his mood threatening to turn sour at the memory. Shaking it off, he concentrated on the enjoyable, and relaxing, task of preparing their evening meal. He had just added the final touches to the simmering alfredo sauce when Laura entered the kitchen dressed in pajamas and wrapped in her robe. His attempt to conceal his surprise at her attire was for naught, as Laura was aware of even the most subtle nuance of his expressions.

"I can't find any of my pants or sweaters," she explained, plucking at the lapel of her robe, "and it seems a bit silly to put on a suit for just a couple hours. I'll change back into what I was wearing when I got here before going home."

"I dropped the cleaning off last week," he acknowledged with a nod. "Haven't had ti-… Must have forgotten to pick it up. I'll get it tomorrow, then you'll be right as rain once more." He patted himself on the back for catching his near gaffe in time. He'd been about to say he'd not had time the week prior to pick up the cleaning, but recognized at once that would only instigate the argument that was sure to occur this evening. Before it did, however, he wanted to get something more substantial than crackers into her system… his own as well. Lifting the plates of pasta off the counter he raised his brows at her.

"Shall we, Miss Holt?" She smiled and nodded at him, picking up the basket of toasted garlic bread and the bottle of wine from the counter, and followed him into the dining room.

They kept the conversation carefully neutral during the meal, focusing on what had happened at work for each of them that day. Laura related the resistance of Hoffsteadler, the semi-irate potential client she'd passed on and the taxing deposition she'd given. Steele gave a hum of acknowledgment on the last.

"Went through much the same last week during my deposition. Absolutely beastly, Koramatsu's attorney is." Laura nodded her agreement.

Steele, on his part went over his meeting with O'Donnell, then provided her a vivid description of what would need to be done at the gallery to provide optimal security. He offered to go down to the Auburn and retrieve the sketches he'd made of the building, but Laura declined the offer citing they could just go over it at work the following morning. She followed up by asking when the crew would arrive for installation.

"Monroe guaranteed me they will be on-site tomorrow morning at eight sharp. I made sure to have him relay the message to the crew that they will likely have to work over if we're to have this completed Thursday."

Dinner completed, they cleared the table together then worked side-by-side washing and drying dishes, wiping down the kitchen, a routine that they had performed together across the years more times than either could count. Steele brewed a batch of tea, while Laura settled onto the couch in the living room. He followed not long after with a cup of the warm brew for each of them. Flicking on the fireplace, he handed Laura her cup, then settled into the corner of the couch across from her.

"I don't know about you, Laura, but I had a lousy night last night, got very little sleep. I'd prefer not to have another repeat of that tonight. So, do we want to continue the small talk or get straight to it?" Steele asked bluntly.

Laura sighed deeply. "My night was no better than yours, so get straight to it I guess. You first."

Steele nodded and thought for a moment, then with another nod began. "I thought we'd agreed just three weeks ago that we wanted what is between us to move forward, so why are you pushing me away again, Laura?"

"I'm not!" The response was automatic, as it had never been her intent, but seeing his brow raised in challenge at her, she qualified her answer on a sigh of frustration. "Maybe I am, but not in the way that you think."

"Seems to be the same way to me: shutting me out, not sharing with me the details of your life, ending our time together. How is this different than before?" He struggled to keep his voice calm when he felt anything but.

"Because this was not about us, it was about me." She stood, began to pace, her tension mounting without apparent cause. "I needed to do this for me, to challenge myself, to prove to myself that I could. I didn't want to hear about how foolish you might have believed it to be. I didn't want to have to justify it. I didn't want to be put in the position where I was made to choose: you or the triathlon. This was about me, only me, something I wanted. I shouldn't have to explain that or ask for forgiveness for it!"

Steele shook his head, growing annoyed himself now, feeling as though he was being blamed for something but unsure what. "Forgive me, Laura, but I'm not sure what I've done wrong here. What have I asked you to justify? When have I _ever_ forced you to choose between me and something else?"

"You're doing it right now!"

"How, how am I doing that, Laura?" Steele demanded, rising to his feet now as well. "I simply asked why you're pushing me away. How is that forcing to you to choose? Asking you to justify anything?"

"Because you're making this about us _or_ something that I needed to do for me! You may as well be telling me to choose, one or the other. I've been down this road before, Mr. Steele. Constantly being given the choice: 'Me, Laura, or whatever folly you have in your head this time.' And every time, _every time_ , I chose him over myself. I told you in Acapulco, that I don't want to lose myself in you, to forget who Laura Holt is. This triathlon was about me, no more than that, no less. That you're angry I chose to take time for myself, that I put myself first, tells me that at some point I'm going to start hearing those words again: Choose, me or whatever you want to do!"

Steele ran his hand through his hair as he shook his head and paced in front of the fireplace. _Damn Wilson. Will I forever be made to pay for the man's misdeeds towards her?_ He turned to face her.

"When, Laura? When have I ever once demanded that you choose between me and yourself? When have I ever told you that something you wanted for yourself was anything less than equally as important to me?"

"Isn't that what your attitude towards me this last week has been about? That I chose to take time for myself, to do something that was only for myself? Isn't it?"

"No! No, that's not what it's been about. It was about you shutting me out completely and not knowing why, what I'd done _this_ time. It was about you _lying_ to me. It was about you simply walking away from the office, without so much as a warning. Had I done the same to you, I wager you would have been far more hostile than I! Wouldn't you have been?" He demanded to know, while waving his arm at her then giving her no time to respond before he continued on. "I don't begrudge you for taking time to do something that is important to you. By god, I _applaud_ you for it, although I can't for the life me understand why _anyone_ would put themselves through that. Bloody hell, Laura, your independence, your ability to stand on your own two feet and take on anything is one of the things I love most about you. Seems to me that you should damn well know that by now!"

"Then, again, why have you been so angry that I took time away?!"

"Because it never had to be all or nothing, that's why! You could have run in the evening, just as you did, while I made dinner or watched a movie. You could have biked in the mornings while I slept, played polo or went a few rounds in the ring down at gym. We could have cancelled our lunches together to allow you time to train at the pool. We don't have to be in one another's pockets every moment of each day, but I'd at least like to have _some_ bloody time with you! For Christ's sake, Laura, why didn't you just _talk_ to me?"

"I don't know, I don't know," she answered with her hands at her head. "It just felt like Wilson all over again."

"I'm not Wilson, Laura! I've never tried to change you, tried to tell you to be anyone other than who you are. It's you that kept me here, that keeps me here. Every prickly, stubborn, strong-headed, independent, temperamental piece of you. That's who I want! Not some… some… watered down version of you." Steele sat on the arm of a chair, straddling it, shaking his head in frustration. He snapped his head around and cocked it at her when she suddenly began laughing. He lifted an eyebrow in question at her.

"Prickly, stubborn, strong headed, temperamental… you make me sound like such an attractive package." He grinned at her, as the tension of the moment disintegrated.

"That you are. Wouldn't have you any other way. Wouldn't be quite the challenge elsewise. And you do know how I enjoy a good challenge," he reminded her with a quirk of his brow

"I'm beginning to think you're a masochist, Mr. Steele."

"I would have once denied that. But I'm beginning to think I may well be when it comes to you, Miss Holt." He stood and crossed the room to her, then gathered her in his arms, planting a kiss on top of her head as she leaned her forehead against his chest.

"Why do you put up with me?" She asked on a sigh of frustration with herself. He'd been no less than honest with her. He'd never attempted to change her, yet in her head she'd somehow mixed him up with Wilson once more.

"The same reason you put up with my ruses, my allergy to legwork, my protracted work hours and attraction to anything shiny. It's part of your charm." Laura lifted her head, resting her chin on his chest so she could look up at him, a smile on her face.

"Is that so?"

"Mmmmm, it is indeed." He leaned down and touched his lips to her, before releasing her and walking away. Laura watched him, a look of resignation on her face.

"I'm guessing we're not done then?"

"No, we're not. We've one more issue to address, one that's gone on far too long for my taste." He watched as she closed herself off to him, as she put her protective walls up firmly in place.

"And what's that," she asked coolly, wincing at her tone but refusing to apologize for it.

"I believe I posed the question to you yesterday, and you simply brushed my concerns aside with a flippant remark."

"Given the number of flippant remarks between the _both_ of us yesterday, would you care to give me a hint?" He furrowed his brow in annoyance at her for the tone of voice she had used. He was tempted to throw an arm at her in disgust, to walk away, but with a brisk exhale of annoyance chose to carry on.

"I believe it was something along the lines, why is it when I do something dangerous it's reckless, but when you do something that is bloody well suicidal, it's inspired."

"Maybe it's because I am tired of having to constantly remind you that I can take care of myself and have for a long time now." She lifted her chin at defiance at him. "What's it going to take to get that through to you?"

"Or so you think," he responded angrily.

"Or so I think?! Or so I _think_?! What in the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, I don't know, Laura, you tell me. Let's have a look at the past, shall we, eh?" His voice dripped with sarcasm while his clipped words denoted his anger. "Your house is blown to bits and you tear off trying to confront a murderer. By yourself! That was a real bomb Laura. You could have been killed. But play it safe and easy? Oh, no, not you! How about Carl, Laura? You remember Carl don't you? Blew a bloody hole into your back right in front of me, he did! Do you remember that? Armstrong in London? Does that ring a bell? Me watching you run as men are firing at you, trying to kill you, not knowing if you made it out alive. And even more recently, you rushing off to confront your secret admirer, nearly getting killed in the process while I could not get to you or warn you!"

Laura spun on her heel to face him, hands on her hips, a pink tint covering her skin as her temper boiled over. Blindsided and furious, eyes blazing, she let him have it.

"Do you really want to do this Mr. Steele? London… When I found you in those tunnels, bleeding from the puncture wounds in your stomach. Or how about Cannes and the Palermo brothers trying to kill you?"

"You like cities, do you Laura? How about Acapulco, there's a city for you. Seem to remember you thought you could take care of yourself there too, only Dominic not only managed to drug you and kidnap you, but he and Merkle were only moments away from killing you!"

"Los Angeles," she fired back, "and my having the immense pleasure of watching Buckner's men beat you to a pulp. His men could have killed you that night! Or DesCoines, and me finding that shot gun on the road and how I felt thinking he had killed you _because of me_. How is that any different from what I have done?"

"I can at least admit that I need you, that's how! Whereas you will never, ever admit you need me in the same bloody way! Perhaps I should just finally accept what you have been telling me all along – that you don't need me! You have gone off on your own, put your life at risk so many times, that it has become patently clear to me that you do not _trust_ me to have your back when it is most important!"

Laura's mouth snapped shut and she stilled. "That's not true," she said quietly.

"It is true Laura, it is! You have proven it time and again in both actions and words. Do you remember Acapulco, Laura? You certainly made it clear there… crystal clear."

 _ **"You know, I have a feeling that we're getting down to the wire on this thing," she had begun.**_

 _ **"Shouldn't you sound more pleased?"**_

 _ **"Frankly, I'm nervous."**_

 _ **"Well, don't be. I mean, we can handle Merkle."**_

 _ **"It's not Merkle that concerns me. It's you. I don't want to turn around and find you not there when I need you."**_

 _ **"Afraid I'll run out on you to save my own neck, eh?"**_

 _ **"It happened in the lobby, when you saw Captain Rios."**_

 _ **"Laura, do you really think I'd leave you in the lurch?"**_

They looked towards one another, the distance between them standing as a gulf between them. Steele turned and walked to the windows next the fireplace and stared out into the night, chewing a thumbnail. Laura began moving towards him, then stopped.

"A lot has changed since then," she told him quietly. "You've proven countless times that you will be there to protect my back."

"Ah, Laura, but how do I protect your back when to this day you still put yourself at risk either ignoring my concerns or simply overriding them?"

"That's not true. We're partners. If you recall, I'm the one that is constantly reminding _you_ that we don't take off on our own. Why do you think I was so angry with you yesterday? You were off on your own, yet again, facing off against two men that could have damned well killed you if they'd wanted!"

"Double standards, Laura. I'm not to take off on my own, but you do so freely at your own will."

"When?" she asked indignantly.

He laughed, without mirth and with a tint of sadness. He turned and leaned his back against the wall next to the window, propping up a foot against it and watched her.

"After Buckner's men beat me, you reminded me again, we don't take off on our own. Yet, I seem to recall Mildred calling me to tell me that you had gone to the warehouse to meet Gillespie alone and I arrived just in time to hear the gunshots. London, when by sheer providence I happened upon you preparing to take off after a serial killer, a killer that managed to get his hands on you, might I remind you. Malta, when I arrive to find a gang of men dragging you to the ground planning to do as they wished with you. Yesterday, bound and determined, over my objections, to go off on your own, to act as a decoy for Joan. Do you need more? Sadly I have far more examples of you putting your life at risk, not caring how it affects those around you. _Especially me._ "

Laura approached him, reaching out to touch his arm.

Running his hands over his face, he walked slowly away from her before turning back around.

"Do you know what it felt like that morning after your house had been bombed, to see you take off by yourself, not knowing if I would ever see you again? I don't think I will ever forget how it felt when I thought Carl had killed you. To see you crumbled on those stairs."

Steele's voice cracked, and he had to take a moment to center himself before continuing.

"I thought I had lost you that night and it is a feeling I never want again. And yet, I wasn't even able to catch my breath before there you went, racing off to solve the case, bullet hole still in the jacket and all. And it has _never stopped_. Do you have _any_ idea how many times I have been left to wonder what I would find when I finally caught up with you?" Steele lowered himself to sit on the hearth of the fireplace, elbows resting on top of his knees. He looked up at her, shaking his head. "It has to stop, Laura. This is not about me thinking you're not capable of taking care of yourself. Bloody hell, if I thought _that_ , I'd be helping you climb each fence we come across, I'd try to prevent you from ever talking to a suspect, I'd be trying to lock you in a gilded cage somewhere. It's about you running off blindly into danger with no regard for your safety, no concern that there is someone who needs you to be safe, who needs you to come home." Dropping his head into his hands he ran his fingers through his hair, mumbling under his breath, "Damn."

Laura watched Steele for several minutes before moving to lower herself down to sit next to him. Reaching over, she took one of his hands in hers, lacing their fingers together.

"I'll make you a deal," she offered. Steele turned his head to the side to look at her, waited for her to go on. "Neither of us can promise we'll never place ourselves in danger, because there are times we can't predict it's going to happen. But, the same holds true for you: You need to stop putting yourself in similar situations." With her free hand, she reached over and touched his cheek. "I need you to come home as much as you need me to, you know. _That's_ why I get so angry with you, when you come back beat up, injured. But if you'll give me your word that you'll stop taking off on your own, I'll give you my word to do the same. Do we have a deal?"

Steele studied Laura for several long moments, then nodded. "We do indeed." After breaking eye contact with her, he let his head hang down while exhaling deeply. "These conversations of ours are bloody exhausting." Laura nodded her head in agreement.

"I agree." She leaned her head against his shoulder for a few scant seconds, then stood, releasing his hand as she did so. "Go take your shower. Get some sleep." She started to walk towards the kitchen, when he reached out and grabbed her hand. She turned to look at him.

"Stay." It was not a demand but a request. The corners of her lips quirked upwards in amusement.

"I was planning on it." She gave his hand a tug. He pushed himself to his feet at the silent urging. "Go. Take your shower. I'll be there shortly."

He gave her a short nod, then pulled her back to him when she turned to leave again, drawing a laugh from her. He leaned down and lay his lips against hers, held them there for several moments, just savoring the touch, then withdrawing, he dropped her hand and headed to the bedroom.

Laura went through her nightly routine when she stayed at his apartment. Picking up their cups, she took them to the kitchen, washed them and set them in the dishrack to dry. Emptying the tea kettle, she rinsed it out then set it back on the range. She set up the coffee machine so it would be ready to go in the morning, setting their cups in front of it. Wandering back into the living room, she flipped off the fireplace, then checked the front door, making sure it was secure for the evening. Only then did she move to the bedroom. Shedding her robe, she laid it at the bottom of the bed, the looked down at her pajama's thoughtfully. With a small shake of her head and a quirk of her lips, she went to his dresser and pulled out his pajama shirt that was missing a pair of matching bottoms. She stripped down to just her panties and had just slid on his shirt when he emerged from the bathroom.

Steele stilled at the sight of her. Took in the curl of Laura's hair left untamed by the blow dryer, the freckles on her face left unmasked by the lack of make-up, his pajama shirt draped over her shoulders, still unbuttoned showing a strip of bare skin down the center of her body. She was never more beautiful to him than she was at moments like these. His eyes gleamed in pure masculine satisfaction that it was he she chose to be with.

Laura was as caught up in him as he was in her. She took in his damp hair and the unruly lock that fell across his forehead, begging to be stroked back; the five o'clock shadow that ran across his cheeks, his chin, left unshaven as he knew she liked the sensation of his whiskers against her skin; the beautiful chest left bare as she preferred. Her teeth found her bottom lip, pressing down on it in appreciation of the man standing before her. She still marveled at how comfortable, how right, it felt to fall asleep with him.

Without conscious thought, Laura fingers threaded a button through its corresponding hole in his pajama shirt, her eyes still on him. As her fingers moved to the next, a single word spoken on an exhale stopped her fingers before they could finish their task.

"Don't."

She looked up at him, and cocked her head to the side almost in question of his request. Then with a shrug of her shoulders and a lift of her brows, dropped her hands from the shirt and instead reached for the comforter and sheet. Sliding under them, she waited for him to join her, pressing herself against him once he'd stretched out and his open arm beckoned her. She nuzzled her head against the place where shoulder met chest until she found the spot where her head roosted whenever they fell asleep with one another. His hand skirted under the partially unbuttoned pajama top finding skin, his arm then tightening around her as his fingers clutched the bare skin of hip. As his free hand sought her hair to toy with it, her fingers found his chest, running lazily through the hair there as her leg tucked over the top of his thigh. With a soft sigh of contentment, responded to with a press of lips against the top of her head, they settled in to sleep.

"I think another deal is in order, Laura."

"Oh, and what is that… Remington?" she asked, smiling against his chest at the twitch of his body that often accompanied her use of his first name.

"No more cancelled weekends." Laura looked up at him, pretended to wrestle with the matter. Then with a flash of a dimple, returned her head to its place on his chest.

"I think I can agree to that. Of course, that means you'll have to go to New York with me this weekend." He chuckled softly.

"I guess I will at that."

"Aren't the rewards of compromise wonderful?" she asked him on a yawn.

"They are indeed." He pressed his lips against the top of her head for a final time. "Get some sleep, Laura. We've a busy week ahead if we're to wrap things up before we leave for the wedding."

"Mmmm hmmmm," she hummed.

Settling himself beneath her, he rested his chin on top of her head and drifted off before he heard her soft sigh as she surrendered to sleep herself.

* * *

The next morning, Steele and Laura arrived at the Agency together, after wrapping up their interviews with the LAPD regarding the Grey case. Mildred glanced up from her computer at them.

"How'd it go?" she queried.

"Fine," Laura answered, as she approached Mildred's desk. There are enough charges against Gullickson, Ivory and Arguello to keep them behind bars for a long time."

Picking up the messages from Mildred's desk and rifling through them while Laura glanced through the day's mail, Steele continued where Laura left off. "You of the happy ending school, Mildred, will be pleased to know that Joan and Allen have been reconciled."

"Ah, good for them! Oh, Miss Holt, there's a package for you in your office," she informed Laura, looking at her pointedly. Laura grinbed at her in return.

"Fpllow me, Mr. Steele," Laura ordered him playfully as she headed for her office. Steele turned and looked at Mildred warily.

"Mildred, why do I get the sinking feeling that I'm in for an unpleasant surprise?"

"Relax, Chief," she answered with a smile that was not at all comforting, "You'll get a lot of mileage out of it."

He laughed skeptically, then walked to Laura's office. Closing the door behind him, she handed him a present, wrapped in blue and white paper and tied with a white ribbon.

"You earned it," she told him. A wide grin spread across his face.

Ripping off the paper and ribbon without fan fair, he looked askance at the shoe box held in his hands. After opening the box, he stared with trepidation at its contents. Hoisting a pair of white shoes from the box, he doubtfully looked at Laura. "Running shoes?"

"With a set routine and a some self discipline you should be able to run in the next triathlon with me."

Steele looked from Laura to the shoes, then tossed them over his shoulder at the door, while grabbing her around the waist and pulling her to him.

"Thanks," he mumbled, as he leaned in to kiss her, "but pursuing you is all the exercise I need."

* * *

 **So, readers… Do we continue on to New York? The Big Apple, a wedding, a romantic interlude, itches perhaps satisfied. Hmmm, just think of all the possibilities…just think.**


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